Is this really singing?

So, yesterday's post was a bit uncalled for. It wasn't at all what I meant to write when I sat down, but after venting about the counseling issue I just sort of ran off on all the things that are upsetting me lately.

I chose my URL because I felt like a canary who hadn't been allowed to sing, and I meant to start singing. But too much of what I write sounds more like angry squawking. No doubt it's aggravated by late pregnancy hormones, but still, I'm beginning to feel that learning to sing instead of scream is a much more difficult process than I had anticipated.

There ARE good things going on, in spite of my depression and physical drawbacks. I registered Andy for first grade yesterday, and he has his evaluation this afternoon. I'm sure that will be a breeze. We toured the school Monday evening, and after seeing the classroom, I feel I could have registered him for second grade instead. But I don't want him to be pressured academically.

I was unimpressed with the tour. It was mostly a sale for the school's "Spirit Wear" and a recruitment for Scouts. We couldn't meet the teachers, which really surprised me. But it was better than nothing. We bought the pack of school supplies, which saves me an annoying extra shopping trip during which I am guaranteed to forget something, lol. And the boys played on the playground. Andy was afraid of one playset, and broke down in tears because I couldn't help him over it. I felt bad knowing other kids will probably mock him for it, so I finally compromised by standing underneath to make the ground feel closer. Not without trepidation, knowing we'd both be injured if he fell on me. But it worked, and I was glad I did.

Hunter is competing with Andy for my attention these days, which makes things rather overwhelming at home. The prolapsing is starting to hurt as Baby Girl settles down, and I feel like I should be on a partial bedrest schedule, which is simply not possible in this small space with two active boys. So I will be very relieved when school starts. They desperately need more activity than I can provide them with right now, and it will be good for all of us when they have it.

The power is back on. Thank God for those small/gigantic things we take so much for granted.

Counseling

So, at my last midwife appointment I talked to the counselor on staff. The idea was for her to help me figure out how to get family counseling through MedicAid - or so I thought. Turns out MedicAid will not provide family counseling, without some major extrapolations of the individual counseling. I was told that to get it, I needed to go to the psychiatric treatment center and tell them I am severely depressed, I'm worried that it's affecting my kids, and that I am concerned about postpartum depression. In order to prevent trauma to the kids, they will then assign a family counselor which would include Mark in the sessions.

No. Way.

NOT to say that I am not, in fact, concerned about all of these things. Except the postpartum aspect. I could never not want to take care of the baby. I am very worried about the effects of my depression on myself and the boys, though. But I am a lot more worried about going on record as needing psychiatric treatment, which is all they are willing to provide. If I end up in a custody fight with Donna in court, there is no limit to what she will say to ensure that I cannot control her visitation. The lies she makes up will be bad enough without the added ammunition this would give her. Of course, the advantage to growing up with her is that I have siblings who could - and hopefully would - testify to her abusive treatment of them, even though her own family will paint her as the World's Best Grandma, whether or not they really believe it. But it's not worth adding anything to her advantage.

To my relief, in spite of the pressure Mark was putting on me to be the one who sought treatment, he agreed this was not a good idea. It looks like our only option is for him to keep the promise he's been making for so long to seek treatment through SOAR. They will provide counseling at no cost if we can't pay, but it has to start with him as the victim of the abuse; and he has been unwilling to accept that. Lately he's been going on and on about how badly WE need counseling, and I have had to bite my tongue awfully hard to keep from lashing out. I didn't need counseling when we first got married; just friends. All my problems stemmed from being lonely and isolated. And he not only added to that by ruining every avenue I had to change it, but added his emotional problems and addictions to the mix until I have gotten to where I DO need counseling - to cope with him! And if he was to vanish from my life tomorrow with no strings attached, I wouldn't need counseling any more. But having two children involved changes the dynamic tremendously, because I can't just decide what they do or don't need.

One thing she did say that was helpful, was that I should probably stay in the cabin for now despite the crowding, so the boys have a secure place to interact with him. I rather thought so, even though it grates on me; but having him visit at my parents' house will not work well, and having them visit his family will not be healthy for them.

I was pretty pissed when he told me some girl at the mall named Morgan gave him her number. So that's where he got the idea, huh? I was also pissed to find out that Tim is now living in the apartments next to where Mark always got dropped off for work. And when I started flipping out, Mark was all like, "Well he was getting evicted, I had to help him find a place, I can't just turn my back and let them live in a car." Oh yeah? But you could turn your back when I absolutely couldn't live with that dysfunctional collection of self-centered cretins you call your family, THAT was no problem at all! I would have lived in a car to get away from there, but guess what? I DIDN'T HAVE ONE!

Like I said to Tim - they should have gotten married. Neither one of them can take care of their real families for shit, but they obsess over each other's lives and can't stand to be apart. Ugh.

Mark said his cousin called the other day and told him that when I worked with her, I told my coworkers that I thought he was secretly gay or bisexual. What a load of crap. I don't know whether to believe that she really said that, or to believe that Tim interpreted my comment that way and repeated it to Mark, and Mark was afraid to tell me he had been talking to Tim again. Who knows. It seems rather unlikely to me that his cousin would say that; but she is a Belisari, after all. And maybe the mouthy, vindictive little control freak who was her best friend in the office told her I said that. THAT wouldn't surprise me. But whatever. He can believe what he wants. I have nothing to lose any more; only his children do.

The other night he was talking about how much he gets it now, etc., all the stuff he always says when he gets into a funk of self-loathing. It's all bull, because what is really happening is that he's hating himself again, and thinking that I must feel the same way, so he thinks he understands how much I must go through to keep him in my life. But it's never anything remotely connected to what I consider the real problems. Anyway, he said how he's been so angry that I didn't have an abortion, because it ruined my chance at becoming independent, but he realizes now that's a selfish way to feel. Yeah, right. If he did, he wouldn't have even brought it up. Once again, biting my tongue. Not because I want him to keep trying with me, but because I think if I say what I need to, he will give up completely, and where does that leave the boys?

But you know, I wished afterwards that I had. I'm so sick of him projecting his own and other people's perceptions onto me while refusing to hear a word I say. I told him early on that if he didn't want this baby, he could leave. And to be honest, I was both surprised and pretty angry that he didn't. Because I knew he wasn't going to actually step up and contribute in any meaningful way. All he would do is use it as an excuse to wallow even more in self-pity/self-hatred, and justify not being a meaningful part of the family. Which is exactly what he's done. His idea of not abandoning me seems to be continuing to hang onto my hand so I have the pleasure of his company, when really he's just preventing me from functioning properly. I don't have a husband. I never have. I have a 30+-year-old foster child with severe emotional and health problems. Why on earth would I possibly need him to stay? The way I see it, he's just too much of a coward to be the one who leaves. And I don't want to give him the satisfaction of throwing him out, so our boys can look at me as the homewrecker. But maybe that's what I'll have to do if he can't get it together fast.

An abortion? Really? The only positive things I have to show for 9 years with him are my beautiful, smart children. And I should give one up so that he will still be comfortable coming home and eating our food (yes, OUR food, since the freaking county provides it because he can't!!!), sleeping with us, etc.? This baby will undoubtedly contribute more to my life than he has. But he thinks I should have eliminated her - why? So I could keep working and letting him be a deadbeat?

He often talked in the past about how we needed to have our own lives, independent of each other. Always when I was angry that he spent oodles of time with friends or his brothers but never wanted to do anything socially with me. But I've realized over the past year, looking back, that what he really meant by that was that I should be working and providing for myself and the kids, so he wouldn't have to. If he really wanted me to have a life, he wouldn't have complained every time I filled the gas tank, refused to pay for car insurance or repairs, and questioned why I needed to go anywhere but the grocery store.

The midwife commented to me about my social situation being different with this birth. And I told her that no, it really isn't. I've just accepted the reality of how things have always been, and I'm sick of waiting for the promised changes.

I told my mom that we were separating. I figured she had to know sometime. She kept going on about my reasons, and what incentives I should be providing him to work things out, and it just started making me mad. She kept saying that of course she knows I have good reasons to separate, she just didn't think I was doing it for the right reasons. You know what, I don't have to freaking justify myself after all I've been through. If she wants to keep believing in that whole "Faith moves mountains" and "Love conquers all" garbage, that's fine. But I've proven it doesn't work. She persists in believing that I must not be praying enough if these things are so unbearable. And I just have nothing left to say. It is what it is, it has never been and will never be what she thinks it is, so butt out.

Mark went up to pay the rent that night and she apparently was beseeching him with tears to go "wrestle with God" and ask forgiveness for whatever sin is holding him back, and not let us fall by the way. I'm just sick of this. So completely sick of it. If I didn't already feel the power of Christ in my life, I would completely abandon religion at this point, because everyone around me interprets it in the most ridiculous way and presumes so many answers that are NOT, in fact, part of Scripture, and for someone like him who has been fed all the politics of Christianity and none of the actual substance, it just makes things worse. I want to go back to that Orthodox Church. Maybe what my mom believes is real for her. But it isn't for me. Nobody there thinks their advice as an older Christian is automatically right, or mistakes giving advice for giving love and empathy. Where did people get this idea that to follow Christ they have to be telling everyone around them what's right and wrong? I want no parts of that religion.

I know I posted this before, but it bears reposting.

"Who Are My People?"

My people? Who are they?
I went into the church where the congregation
Worshiped my God. Were they my people?
I felt no kinship to them as they knelt there.
My people! Where are they?
I went into the land where I was born,
Where men spoke my language....
I was a stranger there.
"My people," my soul cried. "Who are my people?"
Last night in the rain I met an old man
Who spoke a language I do not speak,
Which marked him as one who does not know my God.
With apologetic smile he offered me
The shelter of his patched umbrella.
I met his eyes... And then I knew....

- Rosa Zagnoni Marinoni
    

The joys of Amish living - halfway

So, hurricane Irene did some pretty extensive damage around here. Nothing like near the coast, I'm sure. Our particular nook missed the tornadoes, flooding, etc. that plagues our surrounding towns. But while many of them have power again, ours is expected to remain off for another 36 hours or so.
We are still some of the fortunate ones. My dad has a generator he hooks up to the well pump a few times a day so we can all flush the toilets and wash dishes. Since the main house has oil heat, they still have hot water, so we can still get showers - yay! And we've been able to keep the refrigerators cold enough by swapping them around. Not so much the freezers, but hey, it's better than nothing.
And the next few days are supposed to be sunny and fairly mild, so not having lights and fans won't be a major burden.
Thank God for little things.
I will have a much longer post when the power is back, but I don't want to waste my phone charge, hehe.

The Blues

I really don't like the options ahead. I thought somehow I could make this tiny little cabin work because Mark seemed at peace here, for the first time in his life. But as the birth draws closer that feels more and more impossible. We needed some serious changes in our furniture to make it work, and the money for that hasn't come and clearly isn't going to at this point. Already I will have to spend the recovery period in my parents' house, and I am NOT looking forward to that. Now it looks very possible, with Mark's health issues, that I will have to actually move back up there; assuming they would let me, since I don't do things the way they want. Even the prospect of being there for a month is making me sick. The only way my Mom knows how to relate to me is through criticism and advice. It's always been that way, and always will be. I'm not in a good mental state to handle that. I fled that place 11 years ago, with every intention of never going back, in much the same state of mind I am right now. My mom has changed, but not when it comes to me. She will never see me as an adult with a mind of my own. Only as an unfinished project that somehow slipped away before she added the final touches. My younger siblings she can see as individuals. But I was supposed to be the clone, the one whose life and personality and dreams were already pre-planned, and she can't understand why I wouldn't just accept the pigeonhole I was offered. It was a perfectly good pigeonhole, with everything she would have needed if she were me. But I had the rebellious nerve to go and be different, and reject the comfy little space she worked so hard on. I wasn't supposed to have wings, and especially not a wanderlust. I was going to be the sitter. The perfect one. The mannequin.
And I feel like she's still trying to find where she went wrong and fix it, rather than accept that I wasn't created for the role she expected.
I really, really don't want to live there. It's not going to end well.
Neither, as far as I can see, will the only alternative - staying in this miniature dollhouse built for one. I love this cabin. But it's not big enough for three children. And I have nowhere else to go right now.

Long Night

Last night was the most spectacular electric storm I have ever seen. It lasted for a long time and the lightning was nonstop. I needed to sleep, but the storm did seem to fit my mood.

Baby Girl must like the electricity in the air, because she kicked and thrashed violently the entire time. As the storm moved off, I fell asleep again, and was rudely awakened when she kicked my elbow hard enough to pop my funny bone. It scared me half to death, and when I reached down to see what hit me, her little foot was practically sticking out of my side. I could actually grab hold of it! Little rascal.

I had discovered a couple weeks ago that Mark and Tim were talking regularly. So I blocked Tim's new number. Apparently he hadn't given up his old number, because that one showed up again right away. So I reblocked it as well, and sent both of them an angry text.
 
I guess Tim decided last night was a good time to get pissed off about it. Maybe he was in withdrawal or something. He sent me a whole slew of ranting texts just after I fell asleep. I was furious. I lashed back at him without caring how it sounded, told him that the two of them should have gotten married, and then asked him where my parents' missing bail money is since I figure one way or another, it found its way to him. He of course said he had no idea what I was talking about, but for once it actually shut him up. I blocked him from my phone as well this morning. I have enough stress in my life without his bullcrap too.
 
Mark wants me to name the baby Morgan. He says he dreamed it last night. My initial reaction was "Eeeww no way," but I looked it up and it means "great circle." That's a little scary. Pretty powerful name. I wouldn't mind it as a middle name I guess, but we have to pick the first name carefully. I don't want our list of names to sound like three boys, for one thing; and I don't want to trap her personality. That's a pretty specific name. I like Katrina. I'm pretty stuck on it. Mostly because she reminds me of a hurricane, lol; but the name means "pure." Katrina Morgan would be nice. Mark doesn't like any of the names I like, and I wanted her to have one he doesn't actively dislike because I don't want him to start acting all "Well she's your daughter anyway" and not care to be part of her life. But you know what, that's on him. I'm naming this baby whatever I please. I won't name her Caroline, because his reaction to that was so immediately negative, and I don't want that. But I don't really want a unisex name. The names that have meanings I like with Morgan are names I don't like the sound of, like Brielle and Brianna and Ariel.

I'm sick of trying to please someone who is never happy anyway.     

Time marches on

Well, I had another ultrasound yesterday at the midwives' request to see how big Baby Girl is getting. She's right on average. Ha! I think I may relax my diet a bit. I have to eat more. I'll still try to do things like avoiding candy and sweet cereal, and white rice, potatoes, and bread. But at least whole grain bread and wild rice and granola have to come back in.

Hunter loved the aquarium. He also had two horrendous fits. I decided immediately there will be no more public venue trips until things settle down. I felt so bad though; when we got in the car to leave, he broke down sobbing I asked him what was wrong, and he wailed, "I never found my birfday party in there!" Poor little guy. We had told him the trip was instead of his party, and he apparently thought there was going to be an actual party there :(

As for discipline, the next day, after a confrontation over his car seat that got way out of control, I decided to implement a no-tolerance policy for now. He only gets one chance to obey. I won't fight with him. If he doesn't listen, he doesn't get what he wants.

I realized that where Andy fights for attention, and is often best punished by being ignored, Hunter is fighting to prove his superiority. And he seems to view my arguing with him as evidence that he has the upper hand. So I'm not giving him that satisfaction. He's not happy about it at all; but it's already working.

I decided to stop the eye drops with Andy, because they seem ineffective in every way except messing up the vision he has. He refuses to wear a patch, which the doctor says is the only realistic therapy available. So I decided to try using his need for attention. I told him I want him to wear the patch for an hour every day, and that hour will be our time. I will do whatever he wants with him for that hour, as long as it doesn't involve lots of physical activity which I'm not up for at almost 33 weeks. He agreed. And now, of course, the patch is missing. Hehe. Ugh. I suspect he may have thrown it out. He did that with the first prescription of atropine. I'll have to get another one.

Today we went to the Picture People for photos. I had a coupon from the maternity store, and although I am not into maternity shots, I figured I might as well use it since the boys were allowed to participate. Hunter refused to be in the pictures at first, but got in two of them. I have to say, the guy did an awesome job considering the kids' inattention. We got a great shot of all three of us, and I got a copy of the other one as well, plus a really nice shot of Andy and I. Very cool.

Mark saw the papers I printed out about the spinal fluid leak. He was as upset as I was. I didn't mean for him to see them, but he came by earlier than I expected. The next day he was still pretty sick. I went to the bank with him to cash his check for last week; they postdated the big one for the previous two weeks. That's a whole rant of its own; but basically, they finally admitted they had no intention of making him an employee and said they will be paying him as a subcontractor; no pay guaranteed until job completion. No wonder they kept putting him off about getting the paperwork in order. I want him to quit and not go to Connecticut. This job is already a bust; it will only get worse. He will never be able to support us like this. But he won't discuss it.

Anyway, yesterday he couldn't stand up straight any more. So he went to the ER. Or so he says. They told him he has a kidney stone. I rather tend to believe him, since he doesn't really have a good reason to make that up. He said he tried to tell them about the fluid leak, and just got a blank stare and then the same old, "So how do you rate your pain from 1-10?" He snapped at them, and of course they were hugely cooperative after that. They gave him the name of a health clinic for uninsured patients to get cheap medications on self-pay, and said wait for the stone to pass.

At first, he seemed like he wanted to convince me the kidney stone explains all of this, and he will be fine once it passes. I don't believe that, of course. He has every single symptom of SCSFLS. And kidney stones don't last for years. He's had this for a long time.

But later that night, he called me, very upset over something that happened while he was driving the Turd's truck. (Don't ask.) He said he was turning a corner and a sudden pain shot through the side of his head, and he lost vision temporarily in that eye. He ran the truck up on the curb, and it took several seconds for the pain to subside and his vision to return. He was extremely upset. So was the Turd.
Who, by the way, still hasn't paid him - at least to my knowledge.

So now he's ready to seek medical help. Trouble is, the ER is unlikely to either diagnose or treat this condition. Even the article I read said so. It pretty much said, if you read between the lines, that treatments are expensive and have a low success rate. So if you have it chronically, you're probably screwed and will soon become disabled.

His biggest fear has always been that he'd die or become unable to work before he gave us enough to keep going. Too bad he's gone about preventing that in all the wrong ways, and simply taken what little we had. I don't say that to be harsh, either. It's simply a fact. But I still wish I could do something.

I can't keep walking this line between Mark and my family. They are the ones I can rely on, and the ones who are willing and able to be there for us. I don't feel right living in one of their rentals when they could rent it to someone else for more money, someone who would actually pay on time. And I'd be more comfortable in their house, physically, emotionally, and financially. I could sure use that money we put towards rent, even a part of it. But Mark can't stay there. Not after the robberies and now the bail money missing. It looks too suspicious. He wouldn't want to, even if they let him. And I don't want the boys staying at his brother's house, or visiting there. His dad's would be okay, but there isn't really room and he has no intention of moving back there. Oy. What to do? Especially if I have to hear my mom criticizing everything I do. I just don't know what the next step is financially.

Why?

Well, Hunter's family party went very well, considering the pouring rain, which we desperately needed. Mark came back that night and stayed. I was glad because the boys haven't started asking questions yet, and I'm dreading that. He was having one of his mental breakdowns. Hunter heard him crying after a while and asked if he could come down and help Papa feel better. I decided to let him, because he is very loving and straightforward with people, and I thought it might help on a small level.

Well, I don't know about help. It was pretty revealing though. The exchange went something like this:

Hunter: "Why are you tywing, Papa?" No answer. "Is it betause you going to die?" Me: Speechless and regretting my decision. Mark didn't answer, and he repeated the question. I started to intervene, but Mark spoke up.

"Nobody's dying, honey. I just hurt."

Hunter: "Where do you hurt?"

Me: "Everywhere, Hunter. Maybe you should go lay down now."

Hunter, after a pause and starting to look like he was going to cry: "Sometimes when I'm twying, it's betause I think you're going to die."

So I guess it's not something I can protect them from after all, no matter how hard I try. That revelation of Hunter's sure explains a lot, though part of me would rather not have heard it.

All I really wanted was to make sure my kids had good memories of their father. I know he's not going to live much longer. I miss his friendship, but if I could just be sure that they wouldn't lose their dad so young, and that they'd remember something about him other than him being sick all the time, I'd be okay. I don't want his daughter to grow up with nothing but pictures and second-hand information.

Why can't I give them that?

At least by separating, I can eliminate some of the bad memories. But I can't give them good ones. I don't need a doctor to tell me that without medical intervention, he won't last long. Maybe a few more years if we're lucky. I'm getting to the point where I'm ready to just call an ambulance the next time, and hope the ER actually makes a few connections and starts treating some of his problems. But that's not what the ER does, and the chances are slim.

I don't even know what kind of funeral he wants.

He had fluid leaking from his ear during the last episode. I was freaked out, and he blew it off, saying it always happens when he has these breakdowns. I googled it later when he wasn't around. Spontaneous Cerebrospinal Fluid Leak is what came up. You can look it up on Wikipedia; they have a short and comprehensive article on it. It's not good. Whether it comes from the lower back injury of 13 years, or the case of meningitis he contracted early in our marriage, I don't know. But he has all the symptoms that accompany the actual leaks. Since many of them can be withdrawal symptoms too, that's always in the back of my mind, even when he hasn't appeared to be on anything. If only he wouldn't write off his health issues so easily. He's been having these episodes, as well as accompanying seizures, since Andy was a baby. They've gotten more and more frequent. And how is he going to get a CT scan with no health insurance and no money?

I can't keep him alive by loving him. I can't even give him a few years of happiness by loving him. He doesn't know how to be happy any more; it makes him feel guilty because he doesn't believe he deserves it, and scared because he's sure something bad will happen to ruin it. It's what he was trained to believe from his earliest years.

But I just wanted the kids to be happy with him for a little while. Why is that so hard?

Basket Case

Well, I found out that Longaberger does not have a minimum monthly sales requirement! Yippee! So I have nothing to lose but $20 by trying it out a second time. Between my mom, my sister, and I, we have a pretty decent inventory of their classic products: so I think I can order the kit of catalogs and flyers and fabric samples, and not worry about product samples. Now I just have to decide when to start. Logic tells me to wait until the holidays, since Baby Girl will be here and I will hopefully be recovered. Holiday shows are good starters. But the impatient ME of course wants to hurry up and start now. I'm trying to control that urge.

Isn't it hard enough to eat during the last trimester without a diet? Ugh! I am really starting to hate this diabetic diet. Not because the sugar/carb craving is so uncontrollable, either. I definitely feel better without them. But the trouble is, I don't have enough other things to eat, and I can't seem to get enough nutrition. Everything gives me heartburn when I lie down, even my vitamins. And since I have to lie down a lot because of the prolapsing, that makes me not want to eat as well. Protein of every type (beans, meat, fish, and eggs) exaggerates it, and of course tomatoes and citrus; and for some reason, even apples! Spices I can do without, but I can't live entirely on limited fruit and veggies! I need more plain yogurt. That seems to be the easiest thing on my stomach these days. What I really need are those vitamin shakes to drink, but they are expensive and there is no room at all in the budget for them. A friend gave me some hemp protein shakes, but on top of still giving me heartburn and lots of gas, they were the most vile concotions I ever tried. Blech.

Mark decided to work for his Stevie this weekend to get some cash, so we can take Hunter to the aquarium. His check is supposedly being mailed now from New England and should arrive today if we're fortunate. Monday if not. I have had a WalMart money card for a while that I didn't use, and I found out that it is now accepted at banks as a second form of ID. For a while they weren't accepting debit cards, even bank-issued ones! Only credit cards. But since that seems to have changed, I ordered a second one for Mark and decided that we will start using it for him to "send" money to me while he's away. It will also help him cash his checks without his boss present. So that there won't be any issue of money missing that was supposed to be available, I will just take out all the money he tells me to for the pay period right away, from an ATM; and he will be responsible for whatever is left.

I admit I'm nervous about having any financial accounts connected to him. But it seems to be the most practical way to solve the issue of how he will get money to us when he gets paid from away, and how to establish a paper trail for my income beyond handwritten receipts.

He says he's going to file charges of fraud in the Case of the Missing Bail Money. We'll see where that goes. Maybe Tim can forge a signature as well as he can pass for Mark in a barroom. But I want the court to find out.

All I ever know about Mark's activities, financial state, and that of his health, are what he tells me. That needs to change if he wants to get back together. I have never once seen any medical paperwork about him, despite his serious health issues. I have never seen the house he supposedly owns, or any paperwork about it. For crying out loud, I don't even know for certain that his other son is still living, or that his father actually died! I have no reason NOT to believe those things, of course; but you get the idea. It's been nearly 4 years since I saw anything resembling a legitimate paycheck in his hand, and if I didn't drop him off at work most days, I'd have to wonder if he even has a job.

He said yesterday that he knows how I must feel with him working constantly and never having any money. I just didn't even know how to respond. He clearly has no idea how I feel, or he'd have long ago done something to correct the problem. Like go work at Target, for crying out loud, if that's the only way he can get a steady income! I didn't say anything. I couldn't think of anything that would actually express my reaction. It angers me that he mostly appears to be just sitting down and thinking, "Oh well, I blew it, she's never gonna trust me anyway, I guess it's over," when he's never made any effort to change that other than arguing with me.

He did say he wants to go to counseling. But I'm not holding my breath. We need to, obviously. And hopefully will soon. I just wonder deep inside if he's hoping that in therapy, I will remember how screwed up his life has been and get all sympathetic again, and forget that he has never been honest with me about anything that matters in our future. Being honest with me about his past is not going to hold our relationship together. He has to be honest with HIMSELF about that. He needs to be honest with ME about where he is right now, and what kind of teamwork he's willing to be part of in order to maintain a family.
   

Re-planning

As usual, this job has turned out to be no more reliable than the last one. The excuse this time is that most of the workers already left for the next job site in New England, so the boss man is busy up there and can't get back down here to pay anyone. I don't even care any more. I'm so used to this crap by now that I just take it for granted.

All Hunter's schoolmates seem to be unavailable this week anyway, which is working out well in the end. Saves me the embarrassment of canceling on several people. Instead, my sister was picking up discount amusement park tickets from her job, and our youngest sister is home this weekend, so she was going to take us all up there on Monday. Unfortunately, the tickets sold out. Crap! What do I do now? If Mark gets paid, I might still be able to squeeze out enough money to take them to the aquarium, which Hunter would enjoy more than an amusement park. But that is no guarantee at all. Neither is the amount if he does get a check.

Meanwhile, it's a good thing we have food stamps, because we'd long ago have starved otherwise. And I'm royally pissed off that we're still having to use them.

For now, we set up a couple of playdates for him instead, and I hope he will have fun. Yesterday a set of what he calls his "fish toys" arrived; he has been promised them since April and we haven't had $50 to order them until last week. Actually, we really didn't have it then either, but it's been too long and I was determined he would get them before his birthday. He is delighted. I had a couple more gifts in mind, but I'm thinking we may not be able to get them. Oh well. We are still having cake and ice cream on Sunday afternoon for the family.

Andy is more disappointed about the party, since he is the planner and had actually come up with several fantastic ideas for games, etc. Hunter just wanted to see his friends. Only about half of his class is coming back for the Pre-K class this year, and one new student. The economy is so bad even in this area. I feel bad that he has the scholarship when I'm not sure I can even pay the small amount they are still asking. But then again, it's not like I could enroll him anywhere else. It's that or stay home.

My parents signed the agreement with the realtor yesterday, and she was telling me how our tri-state area is considered the top place to live in the US because of access to D.C., Baltimore, Philadelphia, and NYC. And how the economy here will always stay afloat because of that. Yeah, right. I don't see it happening. All the yuppies are shopping at WalMart now. That's not encouraging. Enrollment for private schools is wayyyyy down, rent keeps climbing, and house prices keep falling.

I was looking into the direct sales industry again as a way to get some income while the baby is little. When I did that before, I tried several different ones and decided that I just simply didn't know enough people outside my family, let alone people with money, to make it work. With both boys in school now, I figure I'll be meeting a lot more people, and thought maybe it could work. I wanted to do something involving kids' products, since I will have three of varying ages and skill levels. Not to mention all the nieces and nephews.

Most of the kids' companies have shut down. Discovery Toys is still around, but you can get that stuff too easily at stores in this area. There was a felt storyboard company that looked neat, but I am not the kind of person who could sell that. And all the pieces in our tiny house? Ugh. Noah's Ark was one I tried before, but they have cut back their inventory so much that it isn't very interesting any more. Plus, the supplies are too bulky with all that stuffing. Barefoot Books I had tried as well, but although I love many of their publications, they have several consultants locally; and besides a lot of their books are weird. Some to the point that I'm uncomfortable marketing them to people.

Makeup isn't something I use, so it would be hard to sell it. Body products are the same. I'm a fan of organic or natural stuff, and most of those seem to be out of business. Kitchen products I don't have a good feeling about. I have a hunch our WalMart-yuppie community is not the right market. And candles? My God, there's like a million different companies! I did PartyLite for a while, and I loved the candles but hated the accessories. They were cheaply made and grossly overpriced. Watkins is deceitful to their employees, and sells too many of their products in stores. I gave that one up in disgust almost as soon as I started it.

The only company I really loved (that's still in business) was Longaberger. They have a unique and beautiful product that seems timeless to me. Unfortunately, it's also incredibly expensive. And I know plenty of people who would buy the products in a flash IF they could afford them. It's the IF that worries me.

So, I'm not sure I should go that route. I may. I still have enough of their products left from my previous efforts that I will have a decent inventory to start with. And they have lowered the size and cost of their starter kits, which you can pay for on a six-month plan. That means the investment is low, and the products I'd get would all be ones I could use for myself if it doesn't work out. But I have to find out what the minimum sales are for each month. That will be the real issue.

Decisions, decisions.  

Remembering Pop-pop

I saw an ear specialist recently whose office turned out to be very close to the cemetery where Mark's grandfather is buried. So I stopped by with the boys. Andy left a little blue dolphin on the stone, to Hunter's great displeasure. Even though he has other dolphins at home. It cracked me up as we walked away; he stomped along with his fists clenched and scowling, and said emphatically, "You should've gived that to me! Not to that guy in the ground back there. He doesn't want it!" Pop-pop would have laughed too, I'm sure.
Apparently everyone was there for the burial on Saturday and stopped by the gravesite, and were very touched by the little dolphin. Mark especially.
Hunter's party is canceled this weekend due to lack of funds. :( Since all his schoolmates seem to be away, maybe it's better. We are going to get those discount amusement park tickets through my sister's job instead, and hopefully do that as a substitute.
Mark is supposed to leave Friday now for the next job site, but says he's not going anywhere until my parents are paid back. I hope it happens. He will probably be staying at his brother's house between trips for the time being.
The midwives at the hospital saw me yesterday. The appointment took forever since they had to go over all my records too. Next time I am scheduled to see a counselor who can refer me to a more specific counselor in my insurance network. I'm looking forward to that. They are sending me for another ultrasound, to monitor the baby's size. But the good news is, they don't think the prolapsing should affect labor and delivery, other than greater discomfort (oh joy). They will send me to a specialist during the recovery for an evaluation though.
Meanwhile, I'm getting school forms filled out and jamming my calendar full of appointments. Yikes! It's gonna be a hectic two months or so. And my parents are finalizing which realtor to list the property with. Lots of big changes coming. I hope I get to the other side still sane.

Are some families really just toxic?

I was planning to tell Mark when he got home yesterday that I intend to file for legal separation. Strange that the first words out of his mouth should be that his three married cousins are split up or splitting up. His brothers don't even try to maintain committed relationships, except the youngest; one breaks up with every girl after a year, the other keeps two or three available at all times and will gladly take time out for anyone else who throws him a wink.

Is there a pattern here?

Mark even said that himself.

Apparently no one wanted to talk to him about it because, according to his brother, they all figure we are next.

I really do loathe these people. They have nothing better to do than sit around sabotaging each other's lives. Every marriage in this family breaks up: Gloria the Wretch, her kids, and now all her grandkids I guess. The women in her family are the most two-faced, conniving, backstabbing group of snakes you will ever meet. Anyone naive enough to marry into this whitewashed sepulchre has to have such a thick skin that they don't make a good partner anyway, or they'll be crushed under the ridicule and venom that permeates the clan. Either way they are pretty much doomed.

It especially pisses me off, because I am so stubborn that knowing people are watching for us to split up makes me want to stay, just so they can't have the satisfaction. And of course, at some point I'm only sabotaging myself that way.

I really wish I'd never met these poisonous people.

What next?

Well, the court showed me paperwork with Mark's signature on it showing that he picked up the check on April 6th. I haven't told him yet. I looked at it, since the infamous Tim has used his ID in the past. But it was his handwriting. I haven't told my parents yet either. The court said it would take a few days to find out from the bank who cashed it, so that's all I told them for now; but I know if he picked it up he cashed it. And I never saw a penny of it. I was still working then, he wasn't making anything and clearly had no motivation to go back to work while I was. That wasn't his money. What the hell was he thinking? How much money has Lance really given him all this time? If he was willing to steal a thousand dollars from my parents, why should I think he's ever going to provide for us?

No doubt he thought of it as merely borrowing the money for another 30 days and making a big break somewhere to pay it back. But he didn't "borrow" it to help me and the kids out, although we badly needed it. And the alternatives are all bad.

I feel like it's gone beyond giving him another chance. No matter how much I want to, I can't. My only worry now is how much to tell others, and when.

It's times like this when I feel most keenly the lack of a trusted friend IRL. Did my mom think I'd never need to talk to anyone but her? Or maybe she just thought I should never need to talk at all. Given our recent discussions I find that rather likely. But I do. Desperately. And you know what? I DON'T HAVE ANYONE!

Mark is supposed to start traveling with his new job in 8 days. For two week increments. I'm rather relieved. Maybe this will be a good chance to see, not if he's changed since clearly he hasn't changed enough, but if he cares enough that I can count on money every week. I suspect the answer will be no. But he won't be able to say I never let him prove it.

I'm not going to the funeral tomorrow. I'm through being the Mushroom Girl, and they've all helped him keep me that way. Screw that whole sick family.

Death, banks, or the government?

As in, which is worse?
Mark's uncle's wife passed away on Monday, so the funeral is tomorrow. Everyone in my family will be gone, so we don't have a babysitter or a car. The car wouldn't be too big a deal if it didn't mean riding with the Other Mother. Ugh. But I could probably suffer through unless she decides to stay all afternoon. I can't be on my feet that long. And sitting doesn't do much better for the prolapsing.
I'm more worried about taking the boys, since they don't know anyone who will be there other than Mark's immediate family and grandmother, and one cousin. And they will be bored to no end. I'd rather Mark went alone, but that seems unfair. We'll see.
Meanwhile, we've been trying to get the bail money back that my parents posted for Mark last year. It's the most ridiculous ring-around-the-rosie. The first time he went to the county seat to pick it up, after waiting the 30 days they said it would take for the release, they supposedly told him they didn't have the correct paperwork from the district yet. So he supposedly went to the district and was told they didn't have anything, the county should be handling it. My parents need their money back. So this time, I went. First to the district, who told me the bail should be released to me since I posted it. They looked up the case, said it was closed, and gave me the phone number for the county official who handles it. She told me the bail could not be released to me, only to Mark, because he signed as the responsible party. And said they cut a check the day after the hearing was closed (what happened to the 30 days?), but she couldn't tell me anything more. Mark got on the phone trying to find out if it was mailed or picked up, and whether it was cashed, since he always has a problem cashing checks due to not having a credit card or a car registration. She said they would have to look into it and it would take a few days. She suggested I go online and look up the case number to prove the bail had been released, but I told her that didn't matter if we never got the check. So she gave me the check number and date, and the name of the bank it was drawn on, and suggested I talk to them.
I went right over. They of course said they cannot release any information to us about a check unless it was deposited into our account with them. We don't have one. So they said we have to wait for the court to follow the paper trail and get our information from them. How comforting.
Oh, and in the meantime, the court kept 30% of the original amount as a standard fee. Nice of them to tell us that up front. NOT!

Cheering your kids on

It occurred to me this morning, watching the boys at the playground, that maybe one of the differences between how self-confident many younger children in a family are as opposed to the eldest, is having their older siblings to cheer them on. Andy constantly tells Hunter how to do things, but he also praises him and encourages him in successes. I rarely do that for Andy, and Mark never does. I think I need to praise and encourage Andy more, even in the things that feel insignificant.